


Beauty in All She Is

by Dcgal814



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, alternative ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dcgal814/pseuds/Dcgal814
Summary: What would Holly's birth have been like if Nick was there?2x10 never happened.  Except for the ambulance scene - we can keep that :D Nick and June manage to escape shortly after, but June goes into labor.Entirely Nick's POV because it always makes me so sad how much Nick missed out on.  This is what I wish Nick, June, and Holly got to share <3





	Beauty in All She Is

 

 

 

 

 

> _Time stands still_  
>  _Beauty in all she is_  
>  _I will be brave_  
>  _I will not let anything take away_  
>  _What's standing in front of me_  
>  _Every breath_  
>  _Every hour has come to this_

 

 

“Nick, you have to pull over.”  

 

“June, we’re so close.  We’re an hour away from the border.” The engine roars as I press down harder on the gas pedal.  The speedometer needle jumps and maxes out.

 

“I can’t...the baby’s coming.”  Another moan escapes June’s mouth, and I can see her grip the car door handle, knuckles turning white.  Her eyes squeeze shut as another contraction starts. They do seem faster now...Less than 10 minutes apart.  Closer to 5 minutes even.

 

 _Shit_.  

 

June moans again, more guttural now.  Primitive. I’ve never heard a human make that sound.  I never even knew a human _could make_ that sound.

 

 _Shit_.  

 

 _But_ _we’re so close...we’ve come this far._ Just another hour, and they’d be safe.  June and the baby. I need to get them out.  The baby can’t be born here. They’ll be looking for us by now.  We could get caught. They’d kill me, and maybe June too. And the baby would be sent back to the Waterfords...I can’t let that happen.  

 

The engine roars again as I step on the gas once more.  Between the sound of the engine and my heart drumming in my chest, I almost don’t hear it.  June’s voice.

 

“Nick…please,” she begs, in between breaths.  Her voice is weak - frail. Which is striking for June.  Because she’s nothing but frail.

 

It’s like a knife in my gut.  Her body folds over, her hands clawing into the leather seats.

 

The car starts to slow, and I realize my foot had lifted off of the gas, as if it had a mind of its own.

 

 _But we’re so close…We’ve never been this close before.  Just another fucking hour._  I consider stepping on the gas again.

 

As if she knew what I was thinking, she pleads, “I need you.”  It’s barely audible, but it’s enough to override any other signal in my brain.  Every thought fades to the background except one: _June needs you.  They need you. Get it together._

 

We’re not getting out.  Not tonight. I want to yell.  Punch a wall.

 

Instead, I move my foot over to the brake and press down.  Gently at first, then more firmly.

 

I reach my hand over to June’s, squeezing it tight.  She doesn’t squeeze back.

 

“Okay,” I say, my voice drenched with disappointment.   

 

_You have to do better than that._

 

“Okay,” I repeat, more kindly, and confidently, despite how I feel inside.  Because, inside, I feel like a failure. Never able to do enough for the people I love.  Always having to watch them suffer...and die.

 

Fear washes over me again, and I’m forced to take a few breaths to gather myself.  I try to focus on the task at hand. Deliver the baby. Then escape.

 

The resolve returns.  “Hang on, June. I just need to get us off of the road.  Move somewhere safe.” Well, _safer_.   Safety only lies across the border.  

 

I don’t know the area.  Gilead is full of abandoned houses, especially the further out you go from the main cities.  We’re far out at this point, but it’s too risky to search for an abandoned place. There’s no guarantee it wouldn’t be occupied.  

 

We’ll just have to stay in the car.  I can fold the back seats down. That’ll work.  

 

It’ll have to work.

 

I see a gap in the trees ahead, and slow down.  It looks like there might be a dirt path, just wide enough for a car.  I just hope it doesn’t lead to a house. As I turn onto the path, I’m relieved to be surrounded by pitch black.  No visible lights in any direction. We’re probably about 300 feet from the road, before I stop the car and switch off the headlights.  

 

Now that we’re parked and I’ve given up on trying to escape, the reality of the situation hits me.   _The baby’s coming.  Our baby._

 

June’s eyes are still squeezed shut.  And her moans...God, her moans. It feels like acid eroding my insides.

 

I should have stopped earlier.  I should have found a safe space for her to have the baby.  Not in this car. _His_ car.  Not like this.  I should have planned for this, saw this coming somehow.  But now, we’re in the middle of nowhere. With no supplies.  No medical care.

 

My heart rate picks up again, as my brain imagines all of the ways this could go wrong and unfold into a living nightmare.  Images of blood-stained clothes flash through my mind. Red on white. So much red. I can almost feel and smell the rain again from that night, when I found her...

 

“Nick…” June whimpers, bringing me back to the present once again.  

 

_She needs you.  Your baby needs you.  Get it together._

 

I jump into action, unlocking my seatbelt, and leaning forward towards her.  I place my hand gently on her back. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Again, I project more calm and confidence in my voice than I actually feel.  

 

“Let’s get you in the back,” I tell her, before jumping out of the car.  I run to the back of the truck, opening up the rear door to fold the back seats down. My eye spots the emergency bag that all Commanders’ cars are equipped with, just in case there’s ever a need for a quick escape.  I’d completely forgotten about it. I packed this one myself though and so I know there’s blankets, a first-aid kit, flashlights, batteries, water…

 

_That’s something.  Holy shit, that’s something._

 

I lay a few blankets down over the flattened seats.  An ache bubbles up in my chest, as I realize our baby will be born here, on muted gray blankets, in the back of a rapist’s car, surrounded by darkness and cold.  

 

_They deserve better than this.  June and the baby._

 

But before I’m engulfed again, I quash it and run back towards the passenger side door.  To June.

 

 _She needs your help.  They need your help._   _Get it together._

 

She takes my offered hand and squeezes it tight as she slowly climbs down from the passenger seat.  Her face breaks into a grimace when her feet hit the ground, pain radiating through her body. Her other hand reaches out for me, finding my shoulder, as her head dips down and she lets out a long exhale.  

 

If I could take on her pain, I would.  All of it. How many times have I had that thought? How many times have we gone through this? June suffers while all I can do is stand around and watch.  Watch her cry, scream, fall apart, and shut down. Watch her heart and body be abused and broken. She suffers and I’m helpless to stop it.

 

She lets out another exhale then lifts her head to meet my eyes.  And she smiles.

 

 _What_ _the_ _fuck_ _?_

 

For a split second, I wonder if she’s lost her mind.  Finally gone batshit, broken by everything she’s endured.  This was the final straw. Because how else could she be smiling right now?

 

She rests her hand on my cheek, warming it with her touch.  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, with nothing but sincerity in her voice.  

 

 _Really? Because I fucking hate this._  

 

Her tenderness somehow makes it all hurt more.  I should have prevented this somehow. How can she be so calm right now? And so sweet? It’s more than I deserve.  

 

But despite how I feel, I can’t take my eyes off of her.  When have I ever been able to take my eyes off of her?

 

The longer I gaze into her eyes, the love I see in them warms me from the inside out.  It settles the noise in my head and the acid inside my body, and wakes me up to the longing in my heart.

 

Because I realize she’s right - I’m lucky to be here.  I could have missed this. I would have missed this. It may not be the ideal circumstances, but...at least I’m here.  We’re here. Together.

 

The two of us.  

 

_The three of us._

 

The ache I thought I’d quashed before really disappears now.  I let my head drop deeper into her caress, craving even more of her warmth.  Her other hand comes up to cradle the other side of my face.

 

I needed this.  And she knew it.  Even in her pain.

 

This incredible woman.  And how many times have I had _that_ thought? It’s easily what I think about the most on any given day - how amazing she is.  How every part of me loves every part of her. Nothing could ever be enough for what she deserves.  But I’ll never stop trying.

 

Sufficiently warmed and calmed by her, I meet her smile with my own, and nod in thanks.  She nods in return, a question forming behind her eyes: “Are you okay?”

 

I nod again, feeling terrible again that she’s comforting me right now, when it should be the other way around.  “I’m sorry. I just…”

 

She interrupts, needing no explanation.  “I know. It’s okay.” She squeezes my cheek ever so gently, reassuring me.  

 

“I’m good now.  I’m here.”

 

We shuffle to the back of the truck, and I help her climb up.  I quickly make a note of the time on my watch, as she settles inside.  She leans against the side of the truck and looks around, taking in the situation in front of us.  

 

To my surprise, her face breaks out into another smile.

 

“I feel like a teenage girl in the back of her boyfriend’s truck, hoping he doesn’t expect her to put out,” she quips.

 

I can’t help but laugh.  She always manages to make me smile, somehow, in this God-awful place.  “We’re a little past that point, don’t you think?” I quip back, with a smirk, nodding towards her very pregnant stomach.  

 

She laughs, then nods appreciatively.

 

There’s a moment of silence between us before she asks, “what kind of music would you play?”

 

She wants to pretend...Maybe she needs a distraction from this horrid situation.

 

“If I was trying to get you to put out?” I ask.  This is an interesting choice of fantasy.

 

She laughs again.  “No, silly. If we were...out of this place.  If you were...home. What do you like to listen to?”

 

It’s such a normal question.  But it feels almost jarring in this situation that is anything but normal.  

 

“I like different things,” I reply.  I see a brief flicker of disappointment across her face from my vague answer, and she drops her eyes.  So I elaborate. “The Stones. Queen. Adele.” I hesitate for a second… “Kelly Clarkson.”

 

Her eyes immediately return to mine, and her face lights up.  ”Oh yea? Kelly Clarkson, huh?” She’s delighted to learn this about me.  She really does want to know me...

 

“She can really sing…” I continue, before hesitating again.  “And her songs are fun to sing.”

 

“So you sing along?” Her eyebrows lift, and her eyes practically sparkle.  “I hope I get to see that one day.”

 

And just like that, the lightness evaporates, and the ache returns.  I look down, lost in my own longing for a future I don’t dare to wish for, even if we were to get out.  

 

June must have realized the impact of her words, because she tries to bring the lightness back.  “Those are good choices,” she says, nodding. “I approve. As long as you’re not a Nickelback fan.”

 

I glance back up, frowning.  “What’s wrong with Nickelback?”

 

She gives me that look - a mix of skepticism, playfulness, with just a hint of judgment.  “Please tell me that’s a rhetorical question.”

 

Before I can answer, June’s face breaks into a grimace.   

 

My hands immediately reach out to her.  “What’s wrong? Another contraction?” _But it’s not time yet…_ I quickly glance at my watch.

 

“No, my back just hurts.  I need to change position.”

 

As we settle in, I try to get everything out that we might need before the next contraction hits.  It should be any minute now. My eye catches on the first aid kit again, and flashes of red on white return.  

 

_June’s done this before.  Billions of women have done this before…_

 

The next contraction hits...and June’s moans are even worse.  Longer and deeper.

 

_God, how have billions of women done this before?_

 

June bends forward, reaching for my hands, as her moans intensify.  Her teeth clench, and her hands painfully squeeze my own. She starts rocking back and forth, and moves onto her knees, dropping her head in my lap.  

 

_She’s in so much pain…_

 

She’s still clutching onto my hands, so all I can do is lower my head to hers.  I touch my forehead to her hair, and wish again that I could take on all of her pain.  But I can’t. I’ve never been able to that.

 

But she’s never needed me to...she’s strong.  She just needs my support.

 

“You’re doing great, June,” I whisper into her hair, and squeeze her hands back.  “Just breathe. You can do this.”

 

With my face against her hair, holding her hands in my own, my fear and helplessness recede, replaced by overwhelming love for this woman.  This incredible woman.

 

She must be terrified right now.  Delivering a baby in the back of a car.  With only me as support, who knows absolutely nothing about labor and childbirth.  

 

But in true, June fashion, she presses on.  Instead of scary, the moment is suddenly awe-inspiring.  I’m a witness to her strength, and her courage. I get to witness it.  

 

I kiss her hair.  “I’m here. You can do this.  We can do this.”

 

She lets go of my hands as her moan intensifies, placing them in front of her on the blanket, curling it up into balls in her tight fists.  She’s still rocking and breathing heavily. A bead of sweat trickles down to the tip of her nose and drops onto the blanket.

 

Finally, her breathing starts to slow, and her body stills as the contraction finally passes.  And she gets a short reprieve before the next one. She drops her head in my lap again.

 

“The contractions are getting closer together,” she says, her voice weak.  

 

“They’re about 4 minutes apart.”

 

She looks up.  “You’ve been timing them?”

 

“I just happened to glance at my watch.”  

 

She smiles.  “What would I do without you?”

 

“I haven’t done anything.  You’re doing all the hard labor...literally.”

 

“You’re doing more than you realize,” she reassures.

 

“What _can_ I do, June? How can I help?” I ask, desperate, practically pleading.

 

She strains to sit up, and my arms go out to help her.  “Later...when it gets bad…” she starts.

 

_This isn’t bad?_

 

“I’ll need you to talk me through it,” she continues.  “Just encourage me, help me to breathe and push.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help with the pain?” I ask.

 

“Not really.  Massages help...but it’s a little too late for that.”  She pauses. “It feels close…”

 

“Really? How close?”

 

There’s a pregnant pause.  “You ready to be a father?” she asks.

 

I don’t respond.  How do I even begin to put into words how I feel?

 

She smiles gently, and squeezes my hand.  “Don’t worry - no one ever feels ready.”

 

 _That’s not it._  “I’m ready to be _her_ father,” I whisper.  

 

“Her?” June’s head tilts ever so slightly to the side, surprised.

 

“I thought you thought it was a girl,” I say, confused.

 

“I do...but I didn’t know you did.”  She pauses. “I thought every man wanted a son.”

 

I don’t respond again.  But this time, she knows it’s because I have something to say.

 

“What? Spit it out - we’re short on time here,” she urges, with some irritation.

 

“The world could use more women like you,” I whisper.

 

Her shoulders slump, and her face softens.  Can eyes smile? Because June’s eyes do.

 

“Okay, that’s like the perfect response,” she whispers, overwhelmed, her eyes filling with water.

 

“It’s true,” I say, softly.  

 

She reaches her hand out to my cheek.  “So sweet. When did you get to be so romantic?”

 

I look around the truck, and scoff.  “You think this is romantic?”

 

Her hand immediately drops.  “Do I think you risking your life time and time again for me and our baby is romantic? Putting my feelings and needs before your own?”

 

Her tone is frustrated, and I realize I’ve ruined the moment.  June pauses, and takes a breath. Then, softly, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do think it’s romantic.”  She reaches her hand back out to my cheek. “The world could use more _men_ like you.”

 

It’s my turn to be touched.  “Now, _that’s_ the perfect response,” I whisper, with a smile.

 

She returns my smile.  “It is, isn’t it? It’s quite poetic.  I should write that down…” Her voice and gaze drift off, as she realizes what she just said, and the reality of our current situation comes crashing down on us.  We’re still in Gilead, where it’s a crime for her to write. Our baby will be born in Gilead, and will never be allowed to read or write unless we can get her out.

 

As if on cue, our baby makes her presence known.  

 

“Here we go,” June says, getting into position, back on her hands and knees.  I kneel beside her, and rub her back, even though she said massages won’t help much at this point.  I have to do something. I can’t just sit here and watch.

 

June’s moans are less unnerving now.  There’s almost something entrancing about them.  Rhythmic. I feel amazed again. By this moment. By this woman.

 

I could have missed this...I would have missed this.  

 

“You’re doing great, June.  Just a few more seconds.”

 

After the contraction passes, she lies down on her side.  “The contractions are getting longer, I think...and stronger.” She looks up, more anxious now.

 

“About a minute long.”  

 

She smiles again.  “It’s a good thing you wear a watch,” she whispers.  Hardly any power in her voice. She’s spent.

 

She’s more quiet...doesn’t want to talk.  I wish I could know what she was thinking.  Is she thinking about Hannah? The first time she gave birth? It breaks my heart to think this moment could bring back painful memories for June.  Reminders of her loss. As she brings one child into the world and out of Gilead, she leaves one child behind. I still have a plan to get Hannah...I just don’t know how to tell June that I’ll need to stay behind in order to make it happen.

 

One step at a time…

 

Have to deliver the baby first.  Then get June and the baby out. Then Hannah.  

 

We go through 2 more cycles of contractions, which are happening every 3 minutes now.  It was after the most recent one that I noticed blood staining the blankets. Red on gray.  

 

“Is this okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even, hiding the fear underneath.  

 

“Yea,” June responds, weakly.  “As long as it’s not too much.”

 

“What’s too much?” I ask.

 

She looks at me, grimly, but doesn’t answer.  

 

 _You’d know,_ is the gist.

 

The soft banter and sweet pretense from earlier is long gone.  It feels like life and death now.

 

 _It’s normal.  It’s normal._ I repeat again and again, like a mantra, trying not to look at the blood.  When there’s even more blood, and I just keep repeating it.

 

_June says it’s normal.  It’s normal._

 

My outer self tries to be strong, calm, and helpful -- or at least, appear that way, for June’s sake.

 

“Breathe, June.  You’re doing great.”  

 

My inner self tries not to lose itself in the storm of emotions swirling around within me.

 

_It’s normal.  June’s going to be fine.  The baby will be fine._

 

“You can do this.”

 

_June’s been through this before.  She’s got this._

 

“Here we go, push.  You’ve got this, June.  PUSH!”

 

_June’s strong.  The baby is strong._

 

“You’re doing so great.  Just a little longer. PUSH!”

 

Maybe it’s witnessing June’s strength.  Maybe it’s faking it until you make it. But at some point, I realize the wall separating my outer and inner selves had vanished.  And I just know, deep within me, that June will be fine. The baby will be fine.

 

This moment is about life - not death.

 

She’s leaning against me, resting before the next contraction.  Her back to my chest. Her hands in my hands. Her legs enclosed in mine.  Her head nestled in the crook of my neck. I’ve never felt closer to her than I have in this moment.  Cradling her whole body in my own, as she gives birth to our baby, who she’s cradled within her own body for the last nine months.  

 

Our bodies were joined when we made her.  Our bodies are joined as we welcome her now.  We’re a family. We created a family. And we’re about to meet our newest member.  

 

I didn’t realize I was crying until I see a tear fall onto June’s nose.  She doesn’t notice. Her eyes are shut, and she’s closed off from the world, focused entirely inward.  

 

June squeezes my hands as the next contraction starts.  

 

“Okay, June.  Here we go - PUSH!”

 

Her head leans forward, her face tight with pain and concentration.  All of a sudden, she drops my hands, and pulls away from my body.

 

“June?” I ask, alarmed by her sudden movement.

 

She gets on her hands and knees, and I immediately move to her side.  I recognize the determination on her face and know what’s about to happen.  

 

_This is it._

 

I quickly grab a spare blanket.  With a final scream and push from June, I see a head emerge and I brace my arms underneath to catch our baby.  

 

One moment my arms were empty, and the next...I’m holding my newborn daughter.

 

Because it’s a girl.  

 

June was right.  

 

Of course, she was right.

 

It’s a girl.  

 

 _She’s_ a girl.

 

I know I should be sad.  I should be afraid for her.  I should feel wretched.

 

I know I should feel that way.  

 

But the only emotion I feel is joy.  And love.

 

Desperate, all-encompassing, life-changing, heart-breaking love.  There’s no room for anything else.

 

I quickly wrap her in the blanket, and pull her into my chest, her cries settling down.

 

I don’t realize I’m crying again until I see tears fall onto her face.  Tear after tear. One after another. Onto her tiny face, with her tiny nose and mouth.  Her eyes are surprisingly big, swollen, and she hasn’t opened them yet. I’m desperate to see them.  Are they brown like mine? Or blue, like June’s?

 

_Come on sweetie, open your eyes.  It’s your daddy._

 

Daddy.

 

My heart stops.  Then, inflates and feels dangerously close to exploding in my own chest.  

 

I’m a dad.  This beautiful girl...is mine.  I get to love her for the rest of my life.  I will love her for the rest of my life.

 

My body starts to shake, and I realize I’m losing it.  The tears have grown from a trickle to a stream down my face.

 

I feel an arm come around my shoulder, and June appears in front of me.   _Oh God, June.  How is she? What the fuck is wrong with me?_

 

My fear and shame vanish though when I see her face - and the joy and love sketched all over it, just as they probably are on mine.  She’s crying too, and leans in to rest her head in the crook of my neck. Her other arm cradles our baby girl, as we share our first family hug.  

 

If June was trying to comfort me and ease my tears, it’s failing miserable because the tears flow even more.  

 

“June,”  I whisper, in between ragged breaths.  “She’s so beautiful.”

 

“She is,” June responds, her voice equally thick with emotion, caressing our daughter’s head.  “Look what we made.”

 

I have no words.  What words could possibly capture the most beautiful, powerful moment of your life? Because that’s what this moment is.  

 

I feel June’s body lean away slightly from mine, as she tries to catch my eye.  I’m somehow able to pry my eyes away from our baby girl. She holds my eyes for a brief moment, before her lips quiver ever so slightly and on them I hear the most beautiful words of my life: “I love you.”

 

Her words reverberate through my body, as though every muscle and limb and even the blood coursing through my veins have never felt more alive.  

 

_She loves me._

 

I’d hoped...I’d wondered…

 

For split seconds, I’d even believed it was really possible that she might love me…

 

_She loves me._

 

It feels as though my heart will break from its own fullness, but before it does, June’s heart breaks first.  Her eyes drop as her face crumbles. As though the dam has finally broken, her tears flow freely, like water gushing out of the cracks in the concrete.  The force of her emotion overwhelming her - shattering her.

 

Her love washes over me, the force of it toppling me over, uprooting me.  I have no words again. I had no idea. My free hand reaches out to her face, wiping her tears away as best as I can, before pulling her body back into mine, touching my forehead to hers.  

 

How can a heart hold so much love in one moment? I knew hearts could break from too little love but I never knew they could also break from too much of it.  

 

But I’m completely and utterly shattered.  Every part of me bleeding love.

 

Our baby starts to cry again, and fear quickly takes over, as I worry something might be wrong.  That would be just our luck - to have everything, and then to lose it all.

 

“Can I?” June asks, eager to hold our daughter.

 

“Of course.  I’m sorry,” I respond, shaking my head in disbelief at myself.  My brain seems to have chosen this moment to shut off. Of course, she’d want to hold our baby.  

 

“It’s okay,” she whispers, with a smile.  June cradles our baby in her arms, and all I can do is watch in awe at the sight before me.  It’s one of those images that you know you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Her body gently rocks back and forth, and her face gazes upon our daughter’s face with such tenderness.  

 

June slowly looks up into my face.  “I was thinking,” she starts, “about Holly...for her name.  After my mom. What do you think?”

 

My head is nodding, before I’m consciously aware of it.  

 

_Holly._

 

My eyes move down to our daughter again.

 

_Holly._

 

I look back up at June.  “It’s perfect.”

 

“Yea?” She smiles.  

 

I return her smile, and reach out my hand to Holly’s head.  “It’s nice to meet you, Holly.”

 

We share another hug, the three of us, with Holly cocooned in our arms.  

 

I could have missed this.  I would have missed this.

 

All of a sudden, June’s face breaks into a grimace, and she closes her eyes, releasing a long exhale of breath.  

 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, frantic.

 

“Contractions” is all she manages to say, through clenched teeth.  

 

_Contractions...more contractions…_

 

 _Oh my God._  

 

“Is...there another baby?” I ask.   _Oh my God._

 

Surprisingly, June starts to laugh.

 

“No, sweetie, it’s the afterbirth,” she whispers, with a smile, before grimacing again.

 

“The what now?”

 

She laughs again, and reaches her hand out to my cheek.  

 

“You’re adorable,” she says, softly.  “It’s the placenta,” she explains. “It needs to come out.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Who knew? No one ever talks about this stuff.  It’s never in the movies or the shows.

 

June starts to pass Holly back to me, and I take her into my arms again.  She’s so small...and so perfect. Our little bundle of joy.

 

The placenta comes out fairly quickly, and I’m filled with awe again of June and her body.  Of all mothers everywhere.

 

“Are there any scissors?” June asks.  

 

“Yea, in the first aid kit.”  

 

She grabs it and then hesitates, looking up at me.  “Do you want to cut the cord?” she asks, offering up the scissors.

 

Now, this part, I have seen in the movies.  The father cutting the umbilical cord.

 

My first fatherly act.  And I hope with all of my heart the first of many to come...  

 

I take the scissors into my own hand, and reach out to cut the cord.  “Oh, it feels funny,” I say, surprised at how thick it is.

 

June laughs again.  Apparently, I’m a riot tonight.  

 

I hold my baby girl just a while longer, marveling at her.  I could sit here and marvel at her for all eternity if it were up to me.  And if her life and June’s life didn’t depend on us getting the fuck out of this hellhole, immediately.  But the closer to getting June and Holly out means the closer I need to leave them. As wretched as that feels, it is nothing compared to the fullness of this moment of witnessing her birth with June.  I may not be there at the end of her story, but at least I was there at the start. And I can help make sure her story doesn’t end in this place.

 

My eyes try to take in her every detail, memorizing her, so I can live on the image later.  It won’t be long now until all I’ll have is this memory to cherish.

 

Her tiny feet and tiny hands.  So delicate and yet so strong, her hand already grasped tightly around my finger.  She reminds me of June in that way.

 

Holly still hasn’t opened her eyes yet...and I realize I may never know what color they are.  I could easily choke on the sorrow that erupts inside of me with that realization, but I quickly wall it off.  To be dealt with later. On my own. Once they’re safe.

 

I continue my memorization of Holly.  Just another minute, I tell myself, and then we’ll go.  

 

“She has so much hair,” I whisper, with a smile, looking up at June.

 

She smiles back, and runs her fingers softly through my own hair.  “I think it’ll be curly, like her father’s.”

 

I wish I could stay here forever.  But it’s time to go. _Enough_ , I tell myself - even though I know there’s no such thing as enough time with them.  I lean down to give Holly a kiss on her forehead. “Sorry, I’ve been hogging her,” I whisper to June. Just another minute...

 

“It’s okay,” June responds.  “But I should probably try to feed her.”

 

_Oh my God.  She’s starving!_

 

“Oh, Jesus - here!” I say, as I pass her immediately to June’s waiting arms.  

 

June laughs softly again.  “Has anyone ever told you you’re really funny?”

 

I don’t respond at first.  Then, “It’s been awhile.”

 

Her brow frowns ever so slightly, saddened by the thought.  

 

“Come on - let’s get you into the front.  We need to get going.”

 

After June is situated and feeding Holly, I watch them for a few seconds more, taking another mental picture.

 

Then my foot is on the gas pedal once more.  More gently now, because of Holly.

 

A little over an hour ago, it was just June and me on this road.  Before Holly. I realize this moment will forever define the rest of my life.  Before Holly. After Holly.

 

“You know you’re grinning like a fool, right?” June asks.

 

I hadn’t even realized it, but I couldn’t stop myself even if I tried.  And, frankly, I don’t want to try. I’m a proud father and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.  Because who knows how much time I’ll have with her. With them.

 

I can feel the sorrow creep back in, but I fight back against it.  My story doesn’t end here. I’ll see Holly again. And June.

 

Maybe that future I don’t dare dream about is waiting for me after all.  

 

The three of us.  What we could be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my writing so please share feedback if you can. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed :)


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